Scars to Fade
by fika1603
Summary: The new academic year saw to greater emphasis on House cordiality. Who else to shoulder the facade of the burden than the Head Boy and Girl? But with scars and remnants of rivalry, how would they fare? R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi guys! I'm back with another fic, and it feels great to finally be over the prolonged writer's block moment. For my past readers, I'll try my best to get back and expand on my previous hanging one (Time Is Dead, a YGOxDeathNote crossover). Anyway, thanks most of all to Pottermore for reigniting my nerd-ism for Harry Potter and resulting me in being able to write my second HP fanfic :P**

**I realize that this first chapter is uncharacteristically short for my works, but I hope you guys don't mind it.**

**Hopefully you guys will like the chapter, and R&R please! (:**

**Regards,**

**fika1603**

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_The thing I realized __only after I hurt you:_

_I was looking for the number of faults __in you_

_when we should have looked at each other._

_~ PLEDGE by the Gazette_

He peered round the corner again. Yet another stream of students excited at the prospect of the end of the school year. He recognized a few from the crowd: a platoon of Hufflepuffs, a preppy bunch of Ravenclaws, the boisterous bunch of Gryffindors. None among the latter was the figure he was hoping to see. He sighed as he rested the back of his head against the pillar he was leaning against. The end of his academic years in Hogwarts, and he had to spend it in such arid disappointment.

"What is it that you want?" a terse voice suddenly sounded from across him.

"You couldn't have initiated the conversation with a decent acknowledgement, could you?" he responded more acidly than he intended as he looked up to level his eyes with the figure in front of him. He tilted his head to one side as he carefully uttered, "Hermione."

"Don't say my name so casually like that!" the brunette hissed, shooting him a stare dripping with disgust. "Anyway, what do you want, Malfoy? Keep it short."

He studied her for a while, then glanced away. "I probably shouldn't have bothered," he muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his concomitant reply. "Then I shouldn't be here wasting my time on the likes of you," she retorted, turning her back to him as she made the move to leave.

Draco was quick to halt her. "Wait," he said, his hand gently encircling her wrist. He hesitated momentarily. "Look, let's... talk."

"Aren't we talking?" Hermione scowled at him as she wrested her wrist away from Draco's loose grip.

"No, as in..." Draco sighed exasperatedly. "Look, let's go back to the Common Room. Get your obstinate head cooled in front of the fireplace or something."

Draco sensed the Head Girl glowering at him, but said nothing as he stared casually at the pavement of the school grounds. He was being rude, perhaps. But it was a harmless, reasonable enough request to have a conversation in the privacy of their Common Room and away from the prying eyes of the rest of the school community.

Unfortunately for him, Hermione was having none of that. "No," she told him coldly. "YOU can go roast your head in the fireplace. I don't have any wish to talk to you, and I don't see a need to. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment to go cool my head somewhere far away from you."

Draco scowled at her retreating figure, and inevitably at the passing figures of the first years, terrifying them to scuttle away quickly to leave their graduating Head Boy to entertain his annoyance. What a blockhead, he bristled as he skulked down the corridor back to the Heads' Common Room. To think that underneath all that heavy brain of hers is a lack of rational human communication.

"Password?" the portrait guarding the entrance to the Heads' Common Room drawled from the chair she was languishing on.

"You see me every day," Draco bristled snarkily. Seeing that the portrait was unfazed, he sighed, "Pockmark."

"What? I can't hear you."

"It's pockmark, you deaf dog of a portrait!" Draco snapped. "Pockmark!"

The portrait duly swung open, and when Draco crossed over the short wall ledge into the Common Room without any gratitude, the portrait dryly commented, "Why thank you, dear portrait."

"Nice to hear you're thanking yourself," Draco shot back before the portrait closed the entrance behind him.

Just my luck, he thought as he settled himself on the sofa and lit the fireplace with a simple flick of his wand. To have an annoying talkative portrait and an annoying mule of a partner in this dreadful place.

He snorted. "What house cordiality and re-integration. You can't even hold a decent conversation in this place anymore."

His grey eyes raved across the expanse of the room, occasionally admiring tasteful antique elements in the room. It was a good thing the room possessed some semblance of elegant antiques; it at least made Draco feel better to know that the room was worthy of his presence despite the unavoidable fact that it came with a package of two inelegant beings (if a portrait could be considered one). Suddenly, his eyes ticked over the stairs at the far corner leading up to the Head Girl's room. There was a magical barrier at the foot of the stairs, permeable only by a password possessed by the Head Girl.

He needed to talk to her and she was going to sit down and acquiesce to his request. Mentally, Draco waved his wand and cast another barrier spell in front of the existing barrier that could be broken down only with his wand. That ought to teach Hermione Granger a lesson.

XO XO XO XO

He awoke to sounds of exasperated shouts and the loud fizzle of failed spells against a magical barrier. Draco could not help but afford himself a quiet triumphant laugh in his bedroom as he realised what was occurring downstairs. Happily sighing as he got off his bed, he made his way to the door, opened it and peered down the stairs to the Common Room.

"Keep it down, will you!" he complained as loudly (and as innocently) as possible. "Maybe you were out having fun with Weasel and Potty and you're high, but it's night time and some people appreciate beauty sleep."

An enraged Hermione turned around to glare at him. "First of all, I went out with my friends but I am not high. And secondly," She jabbed her wand in the direction of the stairs leading to her bedroom. "This is your doing isn't it? Why are you such a horrible person?"

The last sentence stung, and almost instantly the smirk vanished from his lips. Quietly he descended down the steps, aware that the Head Girl was eyeing him carefully and furiously like a hawk. He stopped at the end of the stairway, looked at her, and asked softly, "Am I, really?"

His reaction caught her off-guard. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. It's just that-"

"I just needed to talk to you for a bit," Draco interrupted as if he never heard her. "So if I locked you out of your own room, then maybe you'd have no choice but to listen." He eyed her carefully. "So will you listen to me now?" At her non-responsiveness, Draco sighed in exasperation. "Why do you hate me so much?" At Hermione's glare, he averted his gaze and mumbled, "It's been over for a few months."

"But people haven't forgotten," Hermione responded softly. "The school still carries the scar."

"And you?"

She hurriedly glanced away. "Every time I see you. I know you were forced to take his side, but it doesn't change the fact that-"

"That I was a Death Eater?" Draco interjected rather angrily. He snorted. "I knew this house cordiality and re-integration thing is a joke." Without warning he marched up to her and pushed the sleeves of his robes up, exposing his left forearm which he almost stuck to her face. "You think I still want this? You and Potter and Weasley can go around brandishing your scars like the heroes that you guys think you are, while I don't even need to show mine to be seen as the eternal villain."

The only reply he got from the Head Girl was a slap across his face, which silenced and stunned him momentarily. Wincing at the evident sting on his cheek, he glared to fire another round of rejoinder at her, until he noticed that she was already trembling and staring hard at him with such fierce sorrow and such fierce fury at his words.

Gaining his composure, he managed at most a half-hearted guilt-tripping comment before he retreated to his room, "I had wanted to talk to you about the House Duties. But if you hate me so much just at the sight of me, then you might as well do it all yourself. I'll resign."


	2. Chapter 2

"And with that I hope all of you will take your next few assignments seriously if you wish to secure a decent grade for your N.E.W.T.s," Professor McGonagall sternly reminded the mixed class, majority of which were already packing up to move off to the next lesson. "You're all free to go, apart from you, Mr Malfoy."

Draco said nothing as he stayed rooted in his seat as the rest of the Gryffindor and smattering of Slytherin students piled out of the classroom. Once the last of the Slytherins had filed out, Professor McGonagall promptly closed the door and turned to face her newly appointed Head Boy.

"Let me get this right, Mr Malfoy," she began on an almost disapproving note. "You would like to resign from your position as Head Boy. Would you care to tell me why?"

"Shouldn't I be the one to ask you why, Professor?" he retorted. "Why did you choose me to be the symbol of-" He promptly raised his hands to make quotation marks in the air. "'House cordiality and re-integration'? You should know it wouldn't work."

"Do you have that little faith in yourself, Mr Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall bristled. "I thought that you of all people would want to… alter the image of your House in the eyes of the other Houses." She regarded him kindly. "You still have friends and people in Slytherin who are concerned about you, Mr Malfoy, and concerned about the future of their Housemates including you. They're turning to you to lead them. You don't seriously think I would appoint you without asking the opinions of your Housemates, do you?"

Draco seemed unmoved by her explanation. Instead, he bitterly commented, "It's just a nicer way of phrasing 'retribution', isn't it? Put me in the same Common Room as the war hero so I will be guilt-ridden and repentant the rest of my Hogwarts life."

"If I had things my way, Mr Malfoy, yes I would," the new Headmaster replied coldly. "But when I make decisions, I do them for the benefit of Hogwarts. I do not wish to see this school divided again in time of peril, and I am counting on you to help me with that. Think of it as a personal retribution if you please, but your priority shall always be the image of your House. Have I made myself clear, Mr Malfoy?"

"Yes," he mumbled half-heartedly, gathering his parchments and his quill on the desk. The moment the Headmaster dismissed him, he wasted no time to leave.

XO XO XO XO

They pressed their ears closer to the heavy door, straining hard to hear what was being discussed in the Transfiguration classroom even with the aid of an auditory spell. They heard the sound of footsteps nearing, but barely had time to hide before the door opened to reveal a dour-looking Draco Malfoy.

He did not seem to recognize them, but a quick glance at their badges and the inner lining of their robes indicated to him that they were from Slytherin. "What do the lot of you want from me?"

One of them – a cheery-looking blonde boy – offered a response, "We're your juniors," he introduced himself cheerfully. "I'm Brandon Pritchard, fourth-year." He gestured to a quiet-looking raven-haired boy beside him, "Terence Hoffnell, fourth-year." The platinum blonde beside him who slightly reminded Draco of his mother was "Clarissa Challe, fifth-year" and a lithe, dark-haired girl in the far corner of the group was "Astoria Greengrass, fifth-year."

"Greengrass?" Draco raised an eyebrow at the mention of the family name. He looked at the girl called Astoria pointedly. "Are you related to Daphne?"

The girl looked at him squarely in the eye. Draco inwardly flinched; he had never met anyone who was able to cast a haughty, elegant and disdainful glare at him all at the same time. She replied coolly, "She's my sister. I'm surprised you still remember her."

"Of course I remember her. How is she?"

Daphne's sister continued in her cold tone, "Apart from a broken arm, she managed to get out of the Battle of Hogwarts alive."

Draco was obviously confused as he echoed, "Battle of Hogwarts? But didn't she leave with the rest of the House…?"

"Unlike a certain coward, she came back to defend the school," Astoria cleared his doubts sweetly.

"That's enough, Astoria," a familiar voice sounded softly from behind her. Astoria scowled but said nothing. A tall, good-looking dark boy appeared, placing a gentle restraining hand on her shoulder and extending another towards Draco. "Good to see you back, mate."

"Zabini," Draco greeted him slowly, unsure how to react. "What are you doing here?"

Blaise Zabini shrugged. "Mum insists I finish school." He gestured to their juniors. "Made acquaintances, eh?"

"Well, they just kind of pop out from nowhere," Draco muttered. "I don't even know them."

"I think you'd have to start getting used to them," Blaise commented matter-of-factly. He hesitated for a while before continuing, "We have… very little people in Slytherin as of now. Most of the Seventh Years aren't returning, and the juniors are either too scared to return or their parents don't permit them..."

Draco stared at him incredulously. "Don't tell me it's just the six of us. I saw a few back there in class."

Blaise exchanged looks with their juniors, and nudged Pritchard, who in turn nudged Hoffnell. Sighing loudly, Astoria interjected, "Forty, to be exact. Six from your year, ten from mine, seven from Pritchard's, ten from the third years, nine from the second years and four first years. They might as well close the House down, especially since the other Houses as at least thrice the number of people."

Draco could barely believe his ears. His House decimated to a mere forty people? He recalled that the other two Slytherin Seventh Years in his Transfiguration class had carefully and purposefully sat away from him, and suddenly he understood what Blaise meant earlier. He was not going to win many friends amongst the people in his House. He glanced at his juniors, and the sullen-looking Astoria. He was not even sure if he could win friends amongst these people.

XO XO XO XO

Hermione peered into the Heads' Common Room, making a quick survey of the area. The fireplace was lit, as always, but no one seemed to be there. Good, Hermione thought as she settled her books on the coffee table. No disturbing presence.

She ruffled through her parchments, taking a look at her list of assignments. A Potions essay, Arithmancy and Transfiguration. She frowned at the thought of her Transfiguration class just now. It was an usually small class, fifteen people in all, even though it was derived from two Houses. She recalled seeing Draco Malfoy in it, but could not be too bothered to notice how many Slytherins there were. Possibly two? Three?

"Doesn't really matter," she muttered to herself, dipping her quill into her ink pot to start on her essay. Her tip of her quill just touched the paper when she found herself wondering what Professor McGonagall called Malfoy aside for.

Probably about his resignation, she told herself. Nothing to lose if he did resign.

She barely made it through her second paragraph when she heard the portrait at the entrance swing open. She tensed herself, readying herself to be on the receiving end of one of Malfoy's usual insensitive remarks. But none came. Instead, the Slytherin Head Boy wordlessly made his way to the stairway leading up to his room, and it was Hermione who found herself calling after him.

The blonde boy stiffened even as he turned around to face her, "What? Begging me to not leave?"

Hermione shot him a murderous look. "So, you're leaving after all," she commented confidently. "Good riddance."

To her surprise – and annoyance – Draco merely smirked at her. "You wish."

"Wh-wait, you're not resigning?"

Draco gave her another smirk. "Too bad, Granger. It seems you'll be stuck with me. Deal with it."

Hermione stared at him in horror. "Fine! Then I'll resign!"

Draco shrugged as he took a seat across her and responded calmly, "You can try, but I doubt McGonagall would allow you. Prized student and all."

Without much thinking, Hermione grabbed a book off the table and hurled it at the Head Boy, who ducked it just in time. He scowled at her, "What's wrong with you, Granger! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Yes!" Hermione raged at him. "Yes, I wish I could!" From out of nowhere, she brandished her wand at him and told him quietly, "Get out of my face."

Draco seemed unfazed. Instead, he got up and neared her. Hermione continued to point the wand at him, but he noticed that her hand was shaking. "What are you going to do?" he challenged her. "Turn me into a ferret?"

"Don't taunt me," Hermione responded shakily.

"Do it, then," Draco continued to challenge her even as he took a step closer to her. As if to make a point, he removed his wand and put it on the table. "Go on. I'm wandless." He moved forward until Hermione's wand was directly prodding his chest. He urged her softly once again, "Go on."

Hermione bit her lip, averted her gaze and lowered her wand. "Go away, Malfoy. Please, just go away."

Draco gently held her shoulder and told her, "Look up." Hermione shook her head. He shook her shoulders slightly. "Look at me, Granger."

When Hermione did so, he noticed that her eyes were watery, but he pretended not to notice. Instead, he continued, "Look, you can hate me until the day you die, I don't care. But just for the rest of this year, at the very least be cordial with me. In front of the other students, at the very least pretend to be friendly with me."

Hermione hesitated for a while. "I can't promise…"

Draco let out an exasperated sigh. "Doesn't anything get through this blockhead of yours?"

That only served to provoke the Head Girl, who prodded him once again with her wand. "Do you really want me to turn you into a ferret?"

"Look, do we have a deal or not?" Draco asked again obtusely. "I don't have all night to spend here contemplating whether I should lock you out of your room again."

"Fine," she finally snapped at him. "But just in front of other people. Don't even think for a moment we're friends."

"Wouldn't even dream of it."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! (:**

**This is a slightly longer chapter compared to the previous two, and I hope you guys like this one too because I had fun writing it!**

**Read & review please, thank you!**

**-fika1603**

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They walked wordlessly down the stairs leading towards the Great Hall side by side, barely glancing up or at each other the entire way. Several of the third and fourth years ran past them, affording a cheery greeting at Hermione and a reluctant acknowledging nod to Draco. Some of the older students threw them curious glances, or sympathetic looks at Hermione, much to the annoyance of the Slytherin Head Boy.

"You'd think there's nothing better to stare at in the morning," he suddenly muttered with a scowl.

"Maybe they should try to walk alongside you," Hermione responded darkly, burying her face in the parchment containing her timetable. It seemed that it would be a rather long day, and she rather welcomed that fact since it would only mean lesser time spent around Draco.

"No chance," Draco commented as if he read her thoughts. He shoved his timetable towards her. "Common classes."

It was Hermione's turn to scowl. "Don't sit anywhere near me during lessons," she warned as she started to move off towards the Gryffindors' table.

"Now, that would surely convince people we're on friendly terms," Draco remarked acidly after her, making his way to the Slytherin table, where Blaise and the group of juniors he was with yesterday had obviously saved for him a seat. The moment he neared, other members of the house rather blatantly scooted a bit further from the group, casting him reproachful looks. It took all of Draco's self-control to not suspend them all mid-air and have their breakfast crash over their heads. Instead, he huffily clambered into an empty seat –of all places – beside a dour-looking Astoria. As way of greeting, he remarked, "Look, your sister was pretty. Are you the unfortunate one to look as if you have your face smashed in by a Hippogriff?"

"Has it ever occurred to you it only happens when you're around?" Astoria shot back pointedly, reaching out for a bagel and turning her back to him.

Blaise sighed wearily. "Nice morning we're all going to have here."

"Was, you mean," Astoria muttered. Draco and Blaise pretended not to hear her.

By way of uncharacteristic formality – if only to ascertain he was not surrounded by hostile forces at the breakfast table – Draco asked the rest, "How are your timetables for the day?"

"Horrible" was the rather unanimous response from the fourth and fifth years. Astoria merely rolled her eyes and kept silent, while Blaise seemed rather satisfied with his. A peek at Blaise's timetable assured Draco that he could at least spend Advanced Potions and Advanced Charms with his housemate and spare the torture of having to sit alone or worse, with the annoying bushy-haired genius from Gryffindor.

Brandon compared his with Terence's and commiserated, "Oh no, double Binns. Can't anyone just exorcise him and get a proper teacher in?"

"Better Binns than Hagrid," Astoria cut in, making a face. "He brings in all sort of ridiculous monsters – I don't care what you say Brandon, they're monsters, not even creatures – and he's always going on and on about them when obviously no one really cares."

"I remembered when Professor Grubbly-Planks took over a few years back," Clarissa chimed in, flicking her blonde curtain of her behind her shoulder as she leaned in to have a spoonful of cereal. "I actually liked the subject for once."

"And you tried to steal the unicorn," Blaise commented lazily, stifling a grin. He turned towards his batchmate who was silently picking at his toast. "What do you reckon we might be doing in Potions today?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know, probably some draught," he replied nonchalantly. "Who else are in Potions?"

"From Slytherin?" Blaise raised an eyebrow. He glanced around the table before leaning in and saying in a low voice, "Parkinson and Bulstrode, but I doubt you'd want to associate with them."

"Well, I doubt they'd want to associate with me," Draco corrected him weakly. His ex-girlfriend and her roommate were amongst the few he noticed scrambling to steer clear away from him when he was nearing the Slytherin table. Beside him, Astoria stifled something that sounded like a loud snort at his words. Draco duly ignored her. "Charms?"

"Pretty much all of us seventh years. You, me, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Nott and Davis."

"A little friendly community," Draco remarked dryly. "If you sit with me will you be ostracised as well?"

Blaise fidgeted. Draco sighed; that was all the answer he needed. Pushing his plate away, he made a move as if to retire to the Heads' Common Room to get his Potions materials before meeting Blaise in the dungeon. Out of the blue, Astoria sniffed loudly without looking up, "In case you've yet to realize, we're already sitting with you now. I don't foresee any of the fourth and fifth years wanting to ostracize any of us."

"Well, lucky you," Draco snapped back.

Without warning, Astoria slammed her butterknife on the table and gave him a piercing glare. Draco never thought that he could quaver under a female's stare apart from his mother's, but Astoria was doing a fine job of emulating that reaction in him. "Listen, Malfoy," she said in an eerily calm manner. "I'm only bothering to be nice to you because my sister told me to. I've formulated my own opinions of you since my first year here, but I'm consciously holding it back because of Daphne. Heaven knows what she sees in you, though. So instead of annoying my eardrums first thing in the morning with your whining, start being grateful that you still have breakfast acquaintances." As Draco stared at her, shell-shocked, she got up abruptly, peered down at Clarissa and said coolly, "I'll see you for Care of Magical Creatures. I hope there's some dastardly animal we can sneak in to unleash on our dear Head Boy."

Clarissa nodded amicably, as if Astoria had just bade a cheery goodbye and not storm away from the table, attracting looks from the other Slytherin students. Brandon and Terence were looking at everywhere but Draco, pretending instead to engross themselves in the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. That left the tepid Blaise to be on the receiving end of Draco's rantings.

"Do you think it's possible to Transfigure someone into a hurricane?" Draco fumed, finally stabbing at his toast with a fork. "Zabini, what's her problem? I barely know her before yesterday and her hatred for me seems like it has lasted fifteen years of her sorry life."

"Don't mind her," Blaise seemed unperturbed by the rage that flared up earlier. "She's just sore Daphne liked you."

Draco scowled back in annoyance. "So what? That's Daphne's problem, isn't it?"

His handsome dark friend raised his deep brown eyes to the enchanted ceiling and let out a huge dramatic sigh. "Let me repeat myself. Astoria's just sore Daphne liked you." Seeing that it still failed to register on his friends' pale, pointy face, he finally said flatly, "She's liked you since first year, basically."

Draco's scowl furrowed deeper as if he was in great consternation at the thought of it. Eventually he settled for an equally flat response, "If she ever raises that topic to you, be sure to tell her that I don't like girls with nasty tempers." He glared at Clarissa and their fourth-year acquaintances who suddenly started leaning in to eavesdrop excitedly. "Make sure the lot of you tell her that as well."

Inwardly Blaise groaned. This was going to be an arduous and tenuous inter-years Slytherin relations.

XO XO XO XO

Any hopes of the two Head Prefects to limit their interaction to the occasional meetings in the Common Room and on the way for breakfast in the Great Hall vanished within minutes of them stepping into the Potions dungeons. Draco had barely seated himself beside Blaise and took out his textbook when Professor Slughorn mischievously glanced at him and Hermione and said, "Well, Mr Malfoy, won't you sit with Misss Granger?" He swept his eyes over the rest of the class as well. "And the rest of you too! A Slytherin with a Gryffindor! Pair up between yourselves, or I may have to pair you up!"

The groans coming from both Houses were unmistakable. Neither side made an attempt to get up from their seat and switch with someone from the opposite House. Even Draco pretended not to hear, keeping his gaze straight at his book. On the other side of the class, Hermione, noticing that no one was adhering to the instructions, huffily got up and stormed over to where Draco was seated with Blaise. Ignoring sneers from the Slytherin girls and questionable stares from the Gryffindors, she slammed her Potion textbook beside Blaise and told him plainly, "I'm sorry, Zabini, but I believe this is my seat."

Blaise gave up his seat only too cheerfully that Draco had to turn to shoot him a murderous glare. Looking as apologetic as possible, he scooted over to the other side of the class and seated himself beside Lavender Brown, who had lapsed into one of her giggles at the sight of the second most good-looking guy in Slytherin willingly sitting next to her. Draco rolled his eyes and actually flipped open his book to peruse the potions in it to ignore the fact that the Head Girl had obtusely sat herself next to him.

"Look more accepting of this arrangement!" Hermione hissed.

Draco frowned. "For what?"

"House cordiality, remember?" she said through a terse smile. "And I'd like to do well in today's class and I'm not about to let you ruin it."

"That makes two of us," he muttered. Without warning, he loudly said to her, "Hey, Granger, lend me a quill, will you? I forgot to bring mine."

If Hermione was taken aback by his method acting, she hid it well. "But of course, Draco." She lavishly held one out for him. "Here you go."

That duly won an excited clap from Professor Slughorn who hailed them as exemplary Slytherin-Gryffindor in-class cooperation, and set him on a cheerful path to pair off the students. By the end of it, he was faced with dour-looking students who made it a point to sit at least fifteen inches away from each other.

"Now, now," Professor Slughorn regarded them all kindly as he walked over to his tabletop where a cauldron was already brewing something. He lifted the lid and a sweet scent of lilies wafted into the room. "Could anyone tell me what this is, just by its smell?"

Unsurprisingly, Hermione's hand shot up. Feeling slightly challenged (and partly because he happened to be on the page), Draco cautiously raised his hand too. The Head of his House smiled as he addressed Draco, "Why, Mr Malfoy. Would you happen to know the answer?"

"Draught of Casshern Wisp," he drawled confidently. "Otherwise known as the Effeminate Potion."

Professor Slughorn smiled wider. "Well done, Mr Malfoy. I would've given ten points to Slytherin, had you not read off the textbook. Five points, then!" He diverted his attention back to the rest of the class. "Would anyone else like to elaborate a bit further about it?"

Again, Hermione's hand shot up. Professor Slughorn finally called on her, albeit Hermione detected a strain of reluctance in his voice. Nevertheless, she took the chance and expounded on more than was asked, "The Draught of Casshern Wisp – or the Effiminate Potion – is, as the name suggests, meant to turn the person drinking it to adopt more feminine qualities. In a sense, it can also be seen as a poison, curable only with its corresponding antidote."

"As expected of you, Miss Granger! Five points to Gryffindor!"

Hermione beamed.

"With every poison, there needs to be an antidote, and the Draught of Casshern Wisp is one that requires a tailor-made antidote," Professor Slughorn continued, flicking his wand at the blackboard, where a whole list of ingredients and steps appeared. "The temptation to poison your partner is strong, I'm sure." He elicited a knowing half-smile at his students. "But neither of you will be awarded marks unless you and partner concoct a vial of the Draught of Casshern Wisp each and the respective antidotes."

"Antidotes?" Pansy Parkinson asked aloud rather stupidly. "You mean, two of them?"

"Yes, Miss Parkinson, antidotes," Professor Slughorn repeated himself patiently. "You will create an antidote each for yourself. Of course, that's your assignment for the next Potions class. But all the same, let me remind all of you again that marks will only be awarded when the Draught of Casshern Wisp and both antidotes are up to my expectations. So I shall only give one advice here: teamwork. Now, if there's no concern about this assignment, you may begin! Those who are done may leave their vials at my desk and I shall inspect them soon."

Without waiting for Professor Slughorn to finish, Draco Malfoy was already out of his seat and making his way towards the mini apothecary the Potions Master had kindly set up for the class. Hermione leapt out from her chair to trail after him, keeping an eye on the ingredients on the blackboard while disapprovingly peering over Draco's shoulders to see if he picked out the right ingredients. It was a rather complicated potion comprising of twenty-three ingredients and timely management of weak to strong and back to weak flames. For a moment Hermione wondered if she would survive brewing the potion with Draco without losing her patience. And then she recalled the second half of the assignment – the antidote – and groaned.

Draco threw her a smirk. "Oh what, a wee simple potion starting to be too much for your brain?" He slid some snake fangs and weeping willows over to her. "Use your energy for better means instead of complaining and crush them."

"I am seriously contemplating poisoning you," Hermione shot back, but dumped the snake fangs and willows into the mortar anyway.

"You shouldn't, Granger, you'd just be disappointed," Draco drawled casually in reply without looking up from some roots he was slicing finely. "I'll make a better girl than you are."

By now, Hermione was too infuriated to even say anything and merely pounded the snake fangs and willows mixture as if her life depended on it. Draco afforded himself a snicker. Being forced to sit with the brainy Gryffindor was starting to not seem so bad, if only this meant that he was at liberty to expound one snarky comment after another without serious retaliation from her. From the corner of his grey eyes, he spotted the ever-jovial Professor Slughorn nearing them after waltzing away from the table where Pansy Parkinson shared with Parvati Patil (and a silent catfight immediately ensued the moment the Potions Master turned his back to them). Rather ostentatiously, he placed a pewter cauldron on the tabletop, making quite a show of pouring in the sliced roots. Keeping one eye on Professor Slughorn, he urged Hermione with the most fake amicable tone possible, "I think that's fine." He pretended to squint hard at the words on the blackboard. "I think you can put them in, and then we can start the flame."

"Oh, I wish I can put you into the cauldron," Hermione retorted darkly. Still scowling at the Slytherin prince, she emptied the contents of the mortar into the cauldron. "What are you waiting for?"

"I thought I'd give you the honour of igniting the flame," he said innocently.

"Would you like me to ignite your face as well?" Hermione responded sweetly as she prodded the base of the cauldron with her wand.

"I'd still look better than you," Draco said graciously. As if out of coincidence, he whirled to his left to see Professor Slughorn standing beside them, obviously looking impressed at the way he and Hermione were co-operating. "Oh, Professor Slughorn, sir."

"Where-?" Hermione duly turned around, caught sight of the Potions Master and flushed.

"Getting into the hang of a friendly banter, eh?" Professor Slughorn remarked with a twinkle in his eyes. He lowered his voice, "I won't tell the rest of the class about this matter. But I suppose rumours will fly around soon enough. The both of you are pretty fast." He cleared his throat and peered into their cauldron, the faint scent of lilies starting to emanate from the contents. "Well, so far it seems that it's brewing almost perfectly. Perhaps you could try to -" Hermione swore Professor Slughorn had a glint in his eyes as he coughed and said, "Ignite it a bit further."

Draco was struggling and failing to contain his laughter as Professor Slughorn walked away. Annoyed, Hermione shot him her fiercest glare as she snapped, "What's so funny? What did he mean?"

Draco barely concealed his chortle even as he added in the last of the ingredients, casshern wisps, to their bubbling brew. "He thinks we're dating," he guffawed.

"What?"

"_'Would you like me to ignite your face as well?'_" Draco mimicked her words earlier with a giant smirk.

Hermione's face turned a deep shade of crimson similar to the Gryffindor badge on her school robes. "I didn't mean it that way!" she defended herself hastily.

"It doesn't really matter, does it? Impressions are already made." Again with the smirk. Hermione resisted the urge to dunk his head into the cauldron. He shook his head even as he was convulsed in controlled laughter. "Dating. Good Merlin, of all people in the world."

Without warning, Hermione stomped on his foot, and Draco had composure enough to not howl and hop around the classroom in great pain like he would have a few years back. Instead, he merely gritted his teeth and hissed at her, "I am going to poison you with this Effeminate Potion, just so you can learn some manners of being a lady."

"I look forward to that," was Hermione's cordial reply as she poured their Potion into two glass vials as instructed by Professor Slughorn. She held them both up to his face. "Two vials. We can have a good time poisoning each other."


End file.
